"I'll see that this is the last money that man gets," Mrs. Barnett asseverated.
"Your uncle is a little bull headed, isn't he?" suggested Reedy, cautiously. "Better be careful how you approach him."
"Oh, I'll manage him, never fear," she said positively.
Jenkins set Mrs. Barnett down at the entrance to the bungalow court. He preferred that Jim Crill should not see him with her. It might lead him to think Reedy was trying to influence her.
As Mrs. Barnett stalked up the steps, Jim Crill was sitting on the porch in his shirt sleeves, smoking.
"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, solicitously.
"Ain't feelin'," Crill grunted—"I'm comfortable."
Evelyn sank into a chair, held her hands, and sighed.
"Oh, dear, it is so lonely since poor Tom Barnett died."
Uncle Jim puffed on—he had some faint knowledge of the poor deceased Tom.